A New Templar In Camp
by Desrathaus
Summary: The way I like to pretend things went with Cullen at the tower.
1. Rekindling An Old Flame

Wynne was relieved to hear the words from Celeste's mouth; it was the pragmatic choice in her eyes to spare an innocent life even if it meant overlooking a guilty one. "I know full well the dangers of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry-"

Cullen was terrified, not only of the memories of what he had seen, but of the power of a blood mage. "You know nothing! I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Ferelden." After seeing all of his fellow templars die a slow, torturous death, he was adamant not to let it happen again. Celeste's calming voice was a noticeable contrast to his own defensive tone. "Cullen, do you remember what you said to me, when I spoke to you after my Harrowing?" Cullen closed his eyes as he thought back. "I... I said plenty of things." He still felt an attraction to Celeste, that now not only filled him with regret of his vows but with fear of her potential as an abomination. "You said that as long as you did what the Maker commanded, you couldn't possibly go wrong." He could feel his face redden at the thought that she had listened to him so tentatively. He shook his head; no. Remember the power. Remember what's at stake.

"The Maker wouldn't want innocent blood on our hands, Cullen."

Damn her. Damn her sincerity. Damn the power that she'd had over him since the day he spoke to her. Never had a conversation been so difficult. He conversed with Celeste as gracefully as he could walk up stairs backwards and blindfolded. He couldn't help but to be lost in all of her attributes entirely, making thought all the more impossible.

The way her hair fell so _perfectly_ into her face as she studied her magic, that hair that was a beautiful tangle of charcoal locks.

The way she smiled at him as she approached his post, that smile that made his body seize up and made him forget he wasn't breathing.

The breeze of her smell that she would bring, that smell that he wished would fill his lungs for the rest of his life.

The way she looked at him with those eyes, those eyes that glimmered and shined with raw benevolence and ethicality.

The way she carried herself through the hallways, that walk that mesmerized him at every step; that held a grace and fluidity that he envied.

And her voice, _oh_ her voice; the way she wove each word into a symphony that smoothly found its way into his mind, harmonious and pleasant. And when she said his name with that voice, his heart rose in his chest, and his stomach contorted into an uncomfortable knot, and if only he could just bring himself to say _something_...

He closed his eyes in acceptance. "Very well. I suppose... I suppose that's what the Maker would want." She smiled -- _oh_, that smile -- and he began to wonder if this wasn't another mind game after all when she said that she was happy to see him again. Cullen sat in his prison, listening to the battle above him, left to contemplate the mage who had come back into his life, as well as regret what he had revealed to her. Cullen was convinced Celeste was only another vision, and soon was saying much more than he would ever think to say to the real woman.

Cullen, soon after taking his vows at sixteen, was assigned to the Circle Tower, and for three long years watched Celeste's world from afar, spending much of the day just wondering what she was thinking about. He also studied those she spoke with, feeling a certain jealousy to the male apprentices that talked with her. A jealousy laced with envy, that they could speak to her confidently, while he stood like a dolt, stumbling over himself at just the mention of her name.

He was sheltered at the Chantry, not giving him much of an exposure to members of the opposite gender his age, and so was utterly inexperienced at handling his infatuation. His words stumbled out of his mouth when he spoke to her, and she spoke with an almost rehearsed fluidity and confidence, articulating her thoughts like he wish he could around her. Every time Celeste walked away he felt a vague sense of regret that he couldn't prove to be a more experienced conversationalist.

He also felt regret that he felt this way at all. His steadfast piety, he thought, was all he needed to prove himself loyal to the Maker, to the Chantry, to the templars. But it wasn't enough. Many a night he spent thinking about her, and wondering if other templars had felt that way toward mages. Then his mind wandered to Knight-Commander Greagoir, and Cullen wondered if even he, deep past the cold and emotionally detached facade, ever loved.

Cullen was ripped from his thought by the barrier fading. Relief spread over him that they were defeated, but the thought of abominations in the tower again was nagging at the back of his mind. Celeste soon walked down with First Enchanter Irving and her companions in tow. Cullen joined them on their trek back to the first floor.

Knight-Commander Greagoir had finished thanking Celeste for restoring order, and was soon leaving to look through the tower. "Please, excuse me. And Irving... it is good to have you back." He had began to turn and walk away, but a tentative look at Cullen deep in thought had Greagoir halted. "Grey Warden," Greagoir spoke in a sympathetic tone, "before you go, speak with me again." She nodded, and went on to ask Irving about assistance in the Blight.

Cullen was still thinking of all he had seen in that room. Of what he had heard coming from the Harrowing Chamber. Of her. Of his vows. Of what would happen to him if he just walked out of the tower, took the ferry over the lake, and just kept walking. Images of the visions he saw flooded his mind, and he shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the thought. He quickly turned at the sharp scream of another templar lying on the floor. He decided it would be best if he tried to help or comfort him, or anything.

After Celeste had gotten an agreement from Irving to send the few mages he could provide into battle, she went to speak to Greagoir as he had asked. She found him in the library, slowly walking through the halls, deep in thought. He turned and his expression changed from contemplation back to the serious scowl she always saw him in. "Ah, right. I have a favor to ask of you, Grey Warden." She didn't ask why he couldn't have asked her earlier and decided that it wasn't important.

"Cullen... has seen horrific things, and he seems very much lost in thought." Greagoir took a seat on the table in the rare space that was free of books. "I was hoping to get him out of the tower, get his mind off of... what happened." Celeste nodded.

"I wanted to know if Cullen could come with you in your travels. He was one of the templars I was going to select for battle, and this way's only different in the sense that he'll be fighting the Blight more directly." The mage was still slightly in shock. Greagoir, allowing a mage authority over a templar. "I think it's best for the boy's sanity. Could he travel with you?" Celeste paused at first, then nodded in agreement, "As long as this isn't some secret attempt to keep me in check." Greagoir stood from the table and met the mage's eyes. "You are a Grey Warden and a strong-willed mage. I believe you can function without the Chantry." His eyes looked across the faces of her companions, and then met hers again. "Despite your little stunt with Jowan, I trust you. For _some_ reason."

Walking together back to the entrance, Knight-Commander Greagoir walked over to Cullen, who was hovering over the wounded templar, trying desperately to occupy his mind. "Cullen," Greagoir's voice was commanding and Cullen turned immediately. "I have an arrangement for you. You are to travel with the Grey Warden and aid in the efforts against the Blight." Cullen at first looked quickly between her and the Knight-Commander. He stammered out, "H-has she agreed?"

"Yes, Cullen." Greagoir put an affirming hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you will represent the templars with great skill." Cullen nodded and gave a sheepish smile. "Do I.. need anything?" Greagoir shook his head. "The Grey Warden will supply that." Cullen then shook hands with the Knight-Commander and walked over to Celeste. She smiled, _oh_ that smile; "Glad to have you Cullen." He gulped a painful gulp, and nodded.

Wynne had a knowing grin across her face as she looked up at the templar. Cullen just kept his head down as he walked out of the tower, feeling as though it were all some elaborate prank. He heard his quickening heartbeat in his ears as Celeste used him for balance when she climbed into the ferry, not realizing she had rested her hand on his shoulder. The only seat left was, in fact, next to her.

This was going to be a painfully awkward time for Cullen. He gripped his knees and avoided eye-contact with everyone.

But every time he breathed in, he could smell her scent, and a smile spread across his face.


	2. The First Night

Cullen had felt the eyes of everyone studying him as he stood by his newly created tent. The fire created shadows across everyone's face that made him feel even less welcome.

Alistair had his head down at an angle and was looking up at Cullen with a territorial glare._ "I was templar around here," _he was thinking. _"The position is already filled, and I'm doing just fine, I might add."_

Sten looked down at him with the disgusted look he gave everyone, besides Celeste and Shale. Cullen just wished he wasn't so... imposing. Cullen wasn't exactly scrawny, but his timid nature allowed him to be far from confrontational with the behemoth.

Leliana spoke to Cullen with enthusiasm about the Chantry and the Maker, overjoyed to find that she had an opportunity to speak about religion with someone that was as familiar with it as she was. Cullen smiled and nodded, and Leliana continued to tell of her experiences as a cloistered sister, as well as reciting verses. Cullen, although a little off-put by her overzealous manner, was happy to see a friendly face.

Morrigan gave him an uneasy feeling, and many times he would see her eyeing him up in a calculating manner. Her magic was no secret to him, but he decided that he would take it into his own hands if he felt she was possessed. The Circle could be informed later of the apostate.

Zevran constantly made him turn red with his conversations that almost always took a vulgar turn; it made him writh and twist in his templar armor. Zevran only chuckled while reaching up to slap Cullen on the shoulder. "Ah, so very uneducated... I'll have to teach you some things, my boy." The friendly gesture made him even more uncomfortable.

Wynne was the only one he was familiar with, besides Celeste, and Maker knows talking to her wouldn't calm him down. Wynne's voice was naturally re-assuring, and Cullen smiled genuinely when she said he was welcome here. The glare from Alistair as soon as he turned around made the smile immediately fade.

_"That's __**my**__ pseudo-mom," _Alistair thought.

Cullen felt the overwhelming sense that he was being watched by everyone, and quickly walked to his tent. Before he could find his way inside, Celeste was standing next to him. "Cullen," she said, and he felt his heart flutter as he heard it. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm glad to have you as part of our team. You've always been a talented templar, and that will come in handy in our travels." Cullen smiled; a compliment from her was worth ten compliments from anyone else. He could feel the heat rising in his face. "Thank you, Celeste." She patted him gently on the back as he lifted the flap to his tent, "It'll be fun working with you again."

He lay on his back, smiling up at the darkness in his tent. _"It'll be fun working with you again."_ With _you_. Not anyone. Not a templar. _You_. He didn't care if they were just parting words that left her lips with little thought, or if Celeste even meant one word she had said. She had said it, and Cullen couldn't help but hang on every word as it played again and again in his memory.

***

Celeste's eyes slowly opened. It was still dark, but that was what she wanted. They would be traveling to Orzammar today, and the earlier, the better. Her stomach growled as she finished putting on her robes. She grabbed some bread from her pack. it was stale, and its dryness made it painfully difficult to swallow.

Her mind soon wandered to Cullen, her new addition to the group. He was handsome to her, that was no question. But she also valued him on a personal level. He was sympathetic to the mages, and a gentle and quiet man. He fought with skill despite his bashful temperament.

She knew, however painful it was, that he adored her. She returned the feeling, but would never dare act on it. Cullen was the one risking his entire career on an emotion. She would leave it to him if he felt it important enough to act upon.

But she knew that would never happen.

She could hope, sure, but his shyness was a hurdle that she couldn't overcome for him. It was probably for the best anyway. What would happen if they did let all of the restrained feeling they had for each other flow? Nothing. They'd have to pretend that it still didn't exist. That _they_ still didn't exist. Celeste sighed. The bread had done little to fill her stomach, and she ventured out of the tent to see if anyone else was up.

Wynne was darning Alistair's shirt, and looked up at Celeste with a warm smile. Celeste returned the gesture, and began to search for more food. She looked up to see Wynne still looking at her, smiling, her hands ceasing to mend. "What?" Celeste asked after a pause, and Wynne let out a small chuckle. "He really doesn't know how to act around you, does he?"

Celeste sighed and continued to search through everyone's packs. "He's not supposed to 'act' any way around me but suspicious." Wynne nodded sympathetically and continued to fix the sock while she spoke, "But he's different, isn't he? He's got an unusually gentle quality to him. Like he regrets being a templar." Celeste laughed triumphantly as she pulled dried meat from Alistair's pack.

"So, do you share the feelings?" Wynne strategically asked these questions, slowly easing into more personal thoughts. Celeste ate the meat as she thought if she wanted to answer honestly. "I... I suppose I do. Though, I don't really... _know_ him." She looked over at Wynne. "I mean, mages and templars aren't supposed to get too close. Emotions won't make hunting us down easy."

Wynne angled her head towards Celeste, but kept her eyes on her work, "Do you wish to know him better?" Celeste smiled at Wynne. She knew the drill; pretend to not know what Wynne was actually trying to do, gradually crossing the boundary between small talk and your closest-kept thoughts. "Do _you_ wish to know him better, Wynne?"

Wynne paused her work and looked up at Celeste, laughing slightly. "Maybe forty years ago dear, but not now. I'm old enough to be his grandmother." Celeste took another bite of the dried meat, "That's what you said to Zevran, and that didn't stop him." Wynne rolled her eyes at the mention of the elf, "Don't get me started on that boy. 'Your bosom' this, and 'Your bosom' that, the entire time we travel. You'd think I was actually trying to draw attention to my chest."

Celeste shook her head, "No, Zevran's eyes are just naturally attracted to them." Wynne sighed, trying to signal she was done with the topic, and Celeste had succeeded; they were off of the topic of Cullen. She finished the meat and rose, beginning her rounds of waking everyone up. They'd be in Orzammar by mid-day, come hell or high water. The former, much more likely.

As she headed for Sten's tent, she heard Wynne call over to her, "Oh, and Celeste?" Celeste turned around, facing Wynne.

"I'll get my answer, sooner or later."


End file.
